Peter's Report

The Disciples Peter and John Running to the Sepulcher

 on the Morning of the Resurrection by Eugène Burnand

Running all the way,

bent double in breathless pain

we peered and saw

the gaping grave

open to the rising sun.

Slowly we entered, our eyes sun-blind,

when we saw the empty bench,

the bloody cloth cast within.

I try to imagine

the piercing flash,

the sudden shudder

of His broken body,

His sharp breath exploding

like a swimmer breaking the surface,

when I saw John’s eyes

outshining the sun,

and my own face

lighting even death's

darkest place!

(24 April 2011, 31 March 2018)

The Sadness of Holy Saturday

Through the moonless night

clouds choke receding light

and the world descends

into darkness.

Where are you

as winter's chill pierces my hands? 

Oh, where have you gone? 

Do you not care that I decay

without your gentle breath,

that without your light 

I wane like the failing sun?

Why have you abandoned me?

Through my tears I see 

two millennia of agony, 

the six million slain,

all the fallen generations

newly free, heavy nails 

at last released. 

In the Territory of the Gerasenes

Image: Solomon Raj

From deep inside

I heard them,

howling hatred

lashing me with my own hands

gashing the rocky tombs

with my own bloody feet.

Late at night

they cursed and fought

deep inside

my aching skull.

I was their prisoner,

and they were many…

But then I saw Him by the lake

and my soul leapt

even as Legion arose

as with my ragged voice they raged,

“what will you do to us?” 

but my soul cried louder,

“Save me!” 

Hearing us both,

He drove the dark spirits

from my unclean breast

and into the beasts….poor swine.

Madness cast them

into death’s deep pit….

but I could hear only

silence.

Peace

filled me.

My hand moved

only when I commanded,

and what my eyes saw

I clearly viewed.

The people of the village

fearing a man who could

compel demons,

begged Him to leave.

Blind fools!

If only they could see Him

as I do.

As he was going, I begged to go too

and stay forever in the light

of his face.

But this grace

was not

for me alone…

He told me to go

and proclaim without fear

how His love saved me

from my soul’s dark night,

and led me here,

into paradise.

(18 Feb 2013)

Passion in the Garden

In the long, empty night
I hear your song.

Longing I seek
but can only see
my own dying face
in shattered glass
and piercing steel.

I tremble in fear.
O, where have you gone?

Sing me again your soaring love-song

and show me the way,
for night’s a thin wall
and death, a porous veil.

(17 Apr. 2014)

St. Peter Addressing the Begger

Look up at me, turn

your wide eyes,

expectant, wondering,

hopeful, and see

what I can give.

Do you want a coin? Some-

thing good to eat? Do

you want a little

kindness?

I have none of these

to give you

but the kindness

and the secret of

the seeds of healing

flowing all around you

spring breeze,

swirling gentle desire,

blessing your torn lungs, infusing

your tainted blood, singing

sweetly your freedom!

In His name, then, I command you

to rise and take your place

beside me, and enter into

His holy temple!

(14 April 2013)

Visitation

through hospital corridors

past darkly soiled sheets

through bloody, cold doors

where the comatose sleep

to your death-bed, afraid,

where you waited for me...

...but this time was different;

your eyes understood,

you said slowly, gently

“God is so good!”

Meditation at San Damiano

dark veins fill my sight
lying dendrites firing doubt
through my fragile faith,

complication
denying all escape
 
but as these steps ascend the steep hill
and converge into the unseen sky

I climb
to my blue redemption,

simple
and free.

(20 Aug 2010)

I'll FIll the Sky

Old Man in Sorrow Vincent Van Gogh

" and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

(Rv. 7:9)

I’ll fill the sky

with my desire.

With heart of fire

I’ll scorch the pride

that binds your fear,

with withering sun

I’ll quench with your tears,

and shed my blood,

a cleansing flood of

never-

ending love.

(17 Oct 2013)

Holy Saturday

Storms pass, winds subside
life abides.

See how the cottonwoods
spread new leaves,
fill the blank sky with
emerald sheen
as waving vines praise
the living spirit
of spring,

for soon the shrouded sun will flame
through constraining mists
and in glory rise to complete
this forgiven world
and set it free.


(16 April 2014)

Sunset on Christmas Eve

Light's nearly gone

bare trees flare gold

sun descends,

day turns cold.

Old world ends

in a brilliant flash

but from the east

hope springs at last

fresh from a child

drawing first breath,

as the tawdry cycle

of night and day,

the hopelessness

of fear and hate

new love overwhelms

as new day begins

with first holy breath

of this God-infant.

(24 December 2011)

You Speak

"I am myself a word spoken by God. Can God speak a word 
that does not have any meaning?" Thomas Merton

You speak

and I breath the air 

that you imagine,

smile, and like the calling bird,

I rise to the sun!

But when my selfish soul

swells with self-

sent hell

you wake me, 

and expel me

from my troubled sleep.

Oh, I yearn for that day

when forgiven and

by your love

subsumed,

I'll steadfastly abide

in your constant light.

(2 February 2012)

silver night

silver night

wings in flight

unseen rise past

death’s dim sight

to the perfect light

of paradise!

after the storm

clean and fresh

and puddle-full,

my soul shines,

full of hope

for resurrection

filled to full!

Aubade Wake Up and See

Wake

up

and see

how the sun

lights the top-most leaves

sets astir the delta breeze, shrugs

off night and drives darkness down into the flashing sea!

Born Again

“To be born again is not to become somebody else, but to become ourselves. “       

Thomas Merton

Check in the mirror and

see who’s looking back.

Look deeply into your eyes

and see the darkness

of the center.

Your smirking self

is not important.

Don’t be swayed

by glint of silver or grey;

for age speaks no

wisdom,

and even your scars,

your hard-worn skin,

creased and mortal

means nothing

in the darkness

of the center.

Thunderstorm on Easter Morning

Easter morning

sings green

allelujah.

while rising storm

stacks up night

and bright as glory

lightning strikes

and thunder

rumbles

and rain

delights.